


I’d Follow You Any Way the Wind Blows.

by Eden (Lost_And_Insane)



Series: Geraskier One-Shots [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, fear of darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23769391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_And_Insane/pseuds/Eden
Summary: The pair of amber eyes were unblinking. Their gaze still fixed, they grew calm like a setting sun above the coast, and Jaskier could read none of the usual annoyance or weariness in them. They were very quiet eyes, but right now, they spoke volumes.-Jaskier is afraid of the dark. Luckily, Geralt is there to help.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier One-Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712341
Comments: 16
Kudos: 349





	I’d Follow You Any Way the Wind Blows.

In the darkness, Jaskier drew a quiet breath. The air smelled faintly of moist dirt. He inched his way forward carefully, keeping his eyes on his feet so he could make out where he was putting them.

The cave was small, just big enough for him and Geralt to walk through. Light was nowhere to be seen and it made him increasingly nervous. He _hated_ dark and small spaces. But waiting outside hadn’t been an option, where a storm was brewing and anything could jump him at any moment. No, he’d much rather be at Geralt’s side, thankyouverymuch. Even if that meant following the witcher into a very dark and small cave. Besides, where was he to get inspiration from if not from Geralt’s hunts?

Jaskier was starting to regret his decision, however. His clothes were soaked through and it wasn’t exactly warm in here. It took most of his focus to keep his teeth from clattering, the rest of his attention being poured into placing one foot in front of the other. It was getting darker the farther into the cave they went, and it soon got to the point where Jaskier couldn’t even see the ground beneath him anymore. When he stopped walking and looked up, he realized he couldn’t see the vague outline of Geralt in front of him either.

“Geralt?” he whispered, still looking somewhere in front of him where he knew—hoped—Geralt to be.

It stayed quiet, and Jaskier swore his heart froze in his chest.

“Geralt, are you there?” he asked, louder now, and he tried to keep his voice as steady as possible. His legs felt weak underneath him. He felt a violent chill run down his spine.

He could’ve cried at the familiar huff in front of him.

“Yes, I’m here,” Geralt growled. “Where else would I be?”

Jaskier let out a long breath. His feet continued forward while his hands ran along the walls, trying to feel where he was going. There was no longer a difference between closing and opening his eyes so he squeezed them shut, pretending that when he’d open them he’d see again; pretending that he wasn’t completely blind right now.

He felt the need to talk, to fill the silence, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. His lungs were burning with the effort it took to breathe normally. He focused on the surprisingly quiet sound of Geralt’s footsteps in front of him.

From one second to the next, the walls on Jaskier’s sides disappeared. He gasped and almost toppled over, hands now grasping nothing but air. His feet had locked tightly into place, refusing to take another step, while his eyes shot open.

It was so _dark_. There was only nothingness around him.

His breaths came out fast and ragged; his head was throbbing. The pain in his chest became worse as his heart raced. He felt like lead had been poured into him, down to the tips of his hair. He couldn't move anything.

Something touched his hand and he pulled back instinctively.

“Jaskier, it’s just me.”

Right. Geralt. He’d forgotten he was here with him, too lost in his panic. When something once again brushed his hand, Jaskier resisted the urge to move away. He realized that Geralt had taken a hold of his hand.

“I-I can’t see,” he stammered, his voice trembling as much as his legs.

He felt a soft tug at his arm, but he kept his legs locked in place, scared that if he moved even an inch he’d end up falling down a hole or running face-first into a monster. His knees were shaking so badly, he could barely keep standing. The darkness was stabbing at him. Into his retina, his eardrums, his skin, the darkness turned into daggers lashing out at him.

‘I can’t breathe,’ he wanted to say, but his voice came out as a gasp, no words leaving his lips. His hands and feet felt like they were tied to weights; chained to the ground. Even moving a finger took a large effort. It took all his energy to keep his body standing.

He registered a second touch, one to his left arm. A grip on his upper arm so tight that it hurt. He focused on it, willing his brain to think about anything but the darkness.

“Jaskier.”

The grip on his arm loosened. Instinctively, he reached up to hold Geralt’s hand in place— _don’t let go, don’t leave me here._

There was another tug and Jaskier stumbled forward, knees buckling. A hand snaked around his waist and he was lifted. At least, he thought he was. His thoughts and senses were half-numb; he couldn't grasp what was happening. He wasn't sure whether he was falling, floating, or standing still. His senses were swallowed up by the darkness that surrounded him on all sides.

He could hear a voice, but make out no words. Nevertheless he clung to the sound like it was a beacon. Geralt’s voice was like a soft, summer breeze on a humid day; he could feel his panic subsiding. His eyes closed once more, not out of fear or desperation, but because he could finally breathe again. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave.

A dim light started to surround him. Jaskier could see his own hands again; he held them up to his face, committing them to memory.

He was upside-down, he now realized. Geralt had thrown him over his shoulder like he weighed absolutely nothing—which was probably true, what with a witcher’s strength—and was currently hightailing it out of the cave.

“Are you with me?” Geralt asked quietly.

He sounded gentler than Jaskier had heard him in a long time—it was the kind of fondness usually reserved for curious children in villages they passed, or for a stable boy that had been particularly kind to Roach. It never failed to lift Jaskier’s spirits. Slowly, he felt his body stop trembling, and he took a deep breath to calm his burning lungs.

“Yeah. I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He laughed nervously. His finger subconsciously traced across Geralt’s armour on his back. “I just shut down.”

Truth be told, he didn’t expect a response. Geralt had never been one for words, and Jaskier had long accepted this; he was usually quite content to fill the silence on his own. But it was different this time. Jaskier felt tense, and while the silence was uncomfortable he found he had nothing to say. For once he wished Geralt would say someth—

“It’s okay, Jaskier. You’re okay.”

Jaskier’s heart threatened to leap out his chest. He picked up the sounds of rain and a biting wind ruffled his hair. Geralt gently put him down on the moist ground, hands still on his shoulders to keep him steady; Jaskier’s boots sunk in the mud, but he’d never before been so grateful for it.

“Can you walk?” Geralt asked, still with that gentle voice that melted Jaskier’s heart. “We’re heading back to the inn.”

“What about the hunt?” Jaskier asked carefully.

The pair of amber eyes were unblinking. Their gaze still fixed, they grew calm like a setting sun above the coast, and Jaskier could read none of the usual annoyance or weariness in them. They were very quiet eyes, but right now, they spoke volumes.

“It can wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Something short so I could practice writing about fears. I’m not scared of many things so this was especially challenging to write, but fun either way. Thank you so much for reading! <3


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